Imagine Forever
by prettyredeyes
Summary: Post-ME3 Shakarian. My personal take on the ending and prologue of the game. Focuses mainly on the relationship of Garrus and Shepard, and their eventual wedding, though other characters will appear. Definitely a WAFF piece. Rating for potential Jack.
1. Catching Up

**Disclaimer**: I, of course, do not own Mass Effect or any of its characters or things like that. I'm simply pouring my feels out here for the internet to laugh at.

**Author's Note**: Welcome, welcome to Chapter 1 of ?. I can't say how long this will be, because I don't know how in depth my brain wants to take this. This "fanfic" was inspired by a commission a tumblr friend is getting, and I decided (and was urged) to write my version of how it would all work according to me.

I'd intended only to cover the actual event but headcanon wouldn't allow it. So now this beast has multiple chapters for me to inflict upon the fandom. Arghlblargl.

I am an **artist**, not a writer. So please excuse poor characterization and writing; I don't claim to be great at it. This is all just how the ending and epilogue would play out in my mind, in my ideal game, with how I've always viewed my own Shepard and her relationship. I know there's a lot of inconsistencies and techno-babble that is probably wrong is so many ways about what I've created here, but this was just meant to focus on the fluff.

Now, enjoy! Or enter at your own risk. :D

* * *

An unfamiliar ceiling.

That was what Shepard woke up to. It was blurry at first, an indistinct blotch of grey until her vision cleared. She could make out the individual tiles then, cast in the light pouring in through the tinted windows.

She wasn't on the _Normandy_. She was in a hospital. That much was obvious. But where..?

Her thought was cut off abruptly as she shifted, feeling the tubes and wires she'd expected to find in her situation, but also that her hand was rather.. pinned to the sheets. It was only then that she noticed who was sitting beside her, chair pulled in close to the bed. He was slumped over, her hand held in his, cheek resting on his arm as he'd fallen asleep.

Shepard had no sense of time, no idea how long she'd been here. Her last memories were clear..

* * *

Reapers drifting out of control in space as the wave that had burst forth from the Crucible had silenced them. The soundless explosions as the united fleet destroyed the vulnerable capital ships, bursts of fires that flickered into existance for mere moments before the vacuum of space snuffed them out. And then the pain finally set in, the exhaustion of battle. But she'd gone down gun blazing. That's what counted. She'd pictured them all in her mind.. Anderson, Joker, Liara.. Garrus. All of them, in turn. She'd miss them all, but most of all, Garrus.

As she fell to her knees she blinked back tears threatening to be shed. In all of her service, all of these damned battles, Commander Shepard had always maintained her control. It seemed wrong to lose it now. But here she was, disobeying an order. The most important order of all. The one that was tearing her apart to admit to herself that she'd failed to fulfill.

_I'm sorry.._

* * *

She didn't know how she'd gotten here, but a glance out at the Presidium answered one valuable question. This was Huerta Memorial, where she'd visited Kaidan. She'd been in a room similar to this enough times to identify it. The Presidium was by no means perfect. In the distance the artificial sky was damaged, holes punched in otherwise serene blue and fluffy clouds. Debris was still littered about. There were areas roped off that reminded her of when chunks of Sovereign had rained down years before. But now, as then, it would be repaired. What had Bailey told her that time? That they'd install some bulkhead only to have the Keepers make it seamless? The Citadel would rise again, perfect as always, home to politicians and bureaucrats. She was the reason they still had somewhere to come to bitch at each other. She almost laughed at the thought. To see that there was a Presidium at all was welcome. And to have a sleeping turian, _her turian_ at her side.. she didn't really even have words for that.

Shepard reached out a tentative hand, fingers ghosting over his plates. Tracing his clan tattoos up along his undamaged cheek, up over that damned visor she was convinced he'd surgically grafted onto his skull, and onto his fringe. The touch made him stir, a click of mandibles preceding a short yawn, and then a start as he was aware of just _what_ had made him stir.

"Shepard! You're.." The words didn't need to be said. The way he looked at her said it all. Humans accused turians of being so very alien, their expressions difficult to read compared to those of an asari or salarian. But the emotions whirling in his bright blue eyes were unmistakable. Relief and joy and _love._ The hand holding her's tightened gently, the other reaching for her face gently, tracing her jaw with one finger. It was if he needed that little bit of touch to verify that he wasn't dreaming.

"Garrus, how long has it been..?" She asked quietly, realizing then she was rather parched. He got up after reluctantly drawing away from her, fetching her a small cup of water from the pitcher left out on one of the tables, bringing it to her carefully. Her hands shook a little, but she managed it, sipping it a few times carefully before outright draining it as she awaited the answer to her question.

"Weeks. They.. had you under for awhile while the treatments took. You were pretty banged up, Shepard. I don't know how you managed it. Anyone else wouldn't have made it.."

_Cybernetics,_ she thought. That was the likely reason. They had always helped her heal faster than normal. That was the reason why she'd even been alive after the Collectors had spaced her.

But it didn't matter. What did..

"What about everyone else? Is anyone..?"

Garrus' mandibles twitched and she recognized it as a turian grin. _Pride_.

"They're fine, our crew. We've always made a good team. As you humans say, we really brought our A-game to the final push."

Shepard averted her gaze a moment, recalling a memory. "I'm glad I decided to have you covering me.. or else you might have died with everyone else in that blast.."

She felt a hand on her face, guiding it gently to look at him again. "And I should have never allowed you to go rushing in there on your own, insubordination or not. I should've been by your side, like always."

Her lips twitched in a smile, and she sighed. "Well, we survived it Garrus. It's over. We don't have time for regrets and what-ifs. We'll be too busy figuring out what the hell we're going to do with all this free time.."

A low rumbling accompanied his laughter and he leaned forward over the bedside, bringing their foreheads together in that familiar gesture. Shepard was silent for a few moments, utterly still, once again feeling that sting of tears in her eyes. She moved in a swift motion, ignoring the wires and tubes running along her arms to embrace the turian, slipping her arms around his neck.

"I love you, Garrus Vakarian. All I wanted was one more opportunity to say those words to you again."

He pulled back slightly, so he could look her in the eye, that same smile on his face.

"Well, Shepard, I can think of one thing I'd like to do in all this free time.. once you're back on your feet, of course.."


	2. Taking the Leap

**Disclaimer: **Still don't own Mass Effect. It's tragic because I'd love my own turian...

Chapter 2 of ?

Warning for cheesy lines ahead!

* * *

Shepard ended up staying at Huerta Memorial a bit longer while they cleared her for release. Apparently she had required not only careful adjustments to her implants but several checks to make sure the bone weaves and skin grafts she'd required had taken properly. They'd healed her well, even better than she'd been before. She still had her scars, angry little red lines here and there but they'd grown to be a part of her. The burns to one of her arms had also been extensive, the grafting process a bit less than seamless, but that she'd made it out of it with only those minor issues was significant. There would be no complaints out of her, and certainly no complaints out of Garrus.

* * *

"Running out of ideas already, Vakarian?" She said, grinning at him as she rode in the aircar, leaning a little on the door to better face him.

"Not at all. Why shouldn't I revisit my favourite spot on the Citadel? I need to remember to have someone bronze that Mantis and erect it up here so that people will always remember who's _really_ the best damned sniper in the galaxy.."

"What? The vids not enough for you?"

"Ahah.. no. You know how those vid companies are. First of all, they won't find a turian to play me who is handsome enough. Secondly, Commander Shepard's the real star and they'll never let anyone outshine her. Only we'll ever know the truth and we're the only ones who'll set the record straight with strategically placed monuments."

She laughed, shaking her head. "What makes you think that I'd want to? Maybe I want everyone to believe I'm the better shot anyway."

"Outright lying, Shepard? You're such a renegade," he chuckled. "Only.. you wouldn't do that."

She grinned. "Oh? Why not."

"Because there's always a chance that a vid of Commander Shepard dancing the night away at Afterlife _might_ surface on the extranet. Anonymously, of course. These leaks are _really _awful.."

"Blackmail, Garrus? I thought that sort of thing was beneath you."

"Justice, my dear. I seek only truth and justice. But it's how I get there that's all the fun." A mandible pulled back in a grin of his own.

"Oh, fair enough. You can have your little monument and keep the bottle rebellions in check."

* * *

They stepped out of the aircar not long afterward, and Shepard noticed idly that he had no gun in tow. So they weren't here for another shooting contest, which made sense. They'd settled that the last time, according to him. A date out here would be fine. Sitting, chatting. _Anything_. Just being in his presence, away from impending galactic doom.

The Presidium was still beautiful to look at, even for all its damages. The artificial breeze running through her short red hair was warm and pleasant on her skin. She closed her eyes a moment, drawing in a deep breath. Reveling in the feeling of life and freedom and all that was good.

The footsteps nearby indicated that he'd moved beside her to join her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. She could feel his plated skin under the cloth garment he wore; the light rasp of his talons against the skin under her shirt as he lightly traced circles on her arm.

"You sure you want to build something up here for people to look at, Garrus? This could just be our secret, private spot."

He looked down at her, a mandible pulled back in a toothy smile that managed to be perfectly endearing despite those rows of needle-like teeth.

"Shepard, I'm hoping we'll have a lot of spots that belong to only us. Forever."

It was such an odd word to hear. They'd never talked of forever. In all the years since he and all the others had joined her crew they had only ever talked in blocks of time relative to the culmination of their mission. There was always the chance they might not walk out of it. That was why Garrus had visited her room that night, by her invitation, on that last evening before they'd hit the Omega-4 relay. Why he'd been with her again before the final showdown with the Reapers. They had to compartmentalize all their time, living life in chunks. There had never been room for lofty words like 'forever'. The idea of it at the time was overwhelming and laughable.

But now..

"What do you mean?" She asked quietly, looking up at him.

He dropped his arm from her shoulders, and Shepard tilted her head in some amount of confusion as she watched him. He gently urged her to face him, settling his clawed hands on her arms.

"Shepard.. ah.. _Tarin _Shepard," he began, and her lips curled in a small smirk. He'd never actually used her full name, now that she'd thought about it.

He bowed down to her level again, to press their foreheads together lightly. The gesture meant a lot to a turian, as intimate as a kiss.

"I love you. And I would be honoured if you would accept me as your mate."

The wording was unusual, but the sentiment was there. She smiled, having to keep herself from grinning like a fiend.

"Of course, Garrus. Yes. I accept."

A pleased purr escaped him, an alien sound but one she was familiar enough with to tell that he was elated. Thrilled.

But not done yet.

Awkwardly as ever, he patted down his clothing, withdrawing a small box from his pocket.

"Turian mating rituals are not so elaborate. Or romantic. Your culture's was.. much more appropriate ultimately, I thought.."

He lowered himself to one knee, on eye level with her then for all his height. "Now, would you also do me the honour of marrying me?"

She brought a hand to her lips, embarrassed by the emotions that this small gesture was eliciting. But Garrus had always been that one to bring out the other side of her. Where she'd be utterly ruthless when it came to enemies and the completion of her missions, she was open and gentle with him. Before him and his love, her tough outer shell meant absolutely nothing. She was laid open to the core; the one being in the galaxy she trusted in every way. To show him these emotions, feelings she'd always filed under vulnerability, it spoke volumes.

"_Yes_. I will marry you, Garrus. I'll be your mate. I'll be anything you want me to be.. because I love you and I want forever with you.."

He fumbled with the little box for only a moment. She noticed his hands were trembling a little, and she thought it adorable. But he did get it open, revealing a silver ring with an impressive diamond in the middle of it, flanked by deep blue stones. The same shade as his markings. Silver and grey; fitting. Her gaze shifted from the beautiful piece of jewelry to his face.

"The best I could afford on the salary of someone on the spec ops squad who stuck it to the Reapers where it really hurt. I'm sure you're disappointed."

She was glad they could keep this humour between them, even at a time like this. This was _them_, and she laughed.

"Never. It's beautiful, Garrus.." He took her hand in his and slid the ring onto her finger with the utmost care. When he'd let her go, she brought her hand closer to her face, to truly admire the ring. It was intricate in its craftsmanship, its beauty tied to more than the stones set into it. The metal was scrolling and intricately designed below the setting of the stones. They'd never talked about these things; never discussed her taste in jewelry of all things. That he'd nailed it meant that he just knew _her_ and that was promising.

He'd stood in this time, and when Shepard finally looked to him again he swept her up like he had not so long ago, leaning over her as he kissed her. He held her there even after he'd pulled away, smiling. "That's another one of those things they'll probably never get right in the vids either. It takes a lot of practice being this smooth with a lady."

Shepard laughed out loud, the sound carrying gently on the breeze. She finally had something for a plan, more than she ever could have imagined.


	3. Learning to Move

**Disclaimer:** As previously mentioned, I do not own Mass Effect or any of the characters.

**Author's Note:** I need to start this out by thanking all the people who decided this thing was worth watching, because the response in the last 24 hours has been incredible. I feel very odd writing and it makes me so happy to know that there are people interested enough to want to sit down and have a look. Thanks again! It means so much!

Apologies for any particular awkwardness in the flow and dialogue of this chapter. It is hopefully nothing too jarring, but here we have a couple of characters I have never expected or intended to write, but this just played out in my mind and needed to be put into some detail.

* * *

"Someone want to remind me again why I'm here?"

Tali'zorah's sigh filtered through her mask with a hiss before she glanced aside at the tattooed woman beside her. "For the last time, Jack, Shepard asked us here for our opinions."

"Yes, I know that. But why _us_? I'm not exactly some supermodel centerfold. This? Not my area of expertise. ... And shouldn't you be building a house right now?"

The quarian shifted on the neat leather couch on which she was seated, crossing her legs. "It is being built as we speak, but what sort of friend would I be to turn this down? Besides, shouldn't you be.. blowing something up?"

Jack grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "You know as well as I do that everyone is all love and fucking peace right now. No one's blowing up _shit_. The kids are enjoying their time off and until we get a stable place to work out of there isn't much to do."

Both women looked up as they heard shifting behind a curtain. They were in one of the Citadel's lavish boutiques, one Traynor had suggested. It was fortunate it had survived the battle, but then a lot of the Wards were still mostly intact thanks to the way the Citadel's arms worked. It was the sort of place that Shepard wouldn't have looked twice at before. As such she felt completely out of place to even set foot in it, still dressed in her Alliance-issue uniform. This was not made any easier by the fact that she was flanked by a heavily-tattooed woman bearing a death glare and a quarian.

As the curtain pulled back the pair on the couch tilted their heads in unison. It wasn't that the dress looked bad; rather it was gorgeous. White, strapless satin that hugged the Commander's form in all the right places. It draped gracefully over her curves and generally painted a picture of pure elegance. It just looked almost comical watching _her _wear it, with her stance and her rigid military bearing. It was so completely unfeminine that Jack snorted as she tried to keep her laughter in.

"What?"

"Nothing, nothing.. it just looks like you're ready to hand a krogan his quad right now."

Shepard scowled and crossed her arms over her chest. She never felt comfortable in dresses. She remembered the tight leather get-up that Kasumi had given her and how awkwardly she'd moved in those heels. It was by pure luck that she hadn't broken her neck falling off the things or at the very least made it completely obvious that she'd never owned a pair in her life while she tried to keep up her cover. She wished Kasumi hadn't vanished after all was said and done. The woman seemed to know a thing or two about looks. It was at that point she truly realized that she had few ladies whose judgment she actually trusted enough to come along on this little excursion.

Tali stood, moving over and guiding her former Commander to the small pedestal near the mirror. Tentatively Shepard stood up on the raised platform, and watched the quarian curiously.

"Relax, Shepard. No one's going to shoot you."

"I don't like being out without my gear."

"Of course, but a wedding for any species doesn't call for armor."

She felt the weave of the girl's enviro-suit gloves against her bare arms and she realized she had goosebumps from the nerves. "Just take it easy, remember what this is all about."

Shepard looked ahead in the mirror and took a deep breath. She found Tali's words and her entire demeanor to be incredibly soothing. But.. if anyone would know the right things to say, it would be her, wouldn't it? She knew how badly Tali had longed for the freedom of a life without the barriers of their suits; how much she looked forward to a permanent home and intimacy and a future. That had to include a partner and a family. That she would so freely take this time to comfort her friend and former comrade.. Shepard was immensely grateful. Tali'zorah vas Rannoch had truly matured.

"It's a fine look for you, Shepard. I am no expert on human fashion, but you look good. Now you just need to learn to _move_."

The quarian cast a glance back at the biotic on the couch, and though she couldn't tell it through her mask her tone gave her amusement away. "You could learn a thing or two as well, you know."

"Oh, whatever. I'm no lady and everyone knows it. If they don't like it, fuck 'em."

Shepard blinked, not quite following the quarian's train of thought. "I don't-"

Tali prefaced her words with a sigh, likely in response to Jack's and Shepard's own cluelessness. "Shepard, my people spent all our lives in these suits. Sometimes you'd get some appearance upgrades, or a new cloth to cover your tubing, or a fresh tint on your visor, but we have gone on three-hundred years learning to adapt to life like this. How do you show a male you're interested when you look like every other quarian female in the fleet?"

Shepard's silence indicated that she was busy listening and working it over. She'd spent her youth in the streets and most of her adult life in the military. Nothing immediately came to mind. Everything was a man's world from the beginning and she'd had to adapt to live in that too. That she'd even found her connection to Garrus at all had been because they'd grown to rely on each other in battle; be there for one another when the fate of the galaxy teetered on the edge of a knife. That that connection became something more was half-dumb luck and the rest was what she'd eventually come to realize was love. She'd fallen in love with him without even realizing it, and that's what made her open her mouth and say those incredibly bold words in the main battery that day. But this? She was treading into foreign territory here.

"Body language, Shepard." _Oh_. Tali's words jarred her right out of that train of thought. "Small things. _Feminine _things. We are a different people but ultimately have the same general design.." Her laugh echoed a bit through her mask. "I'm sure even _I_ could teach you something.."

Shepard felt the girl's hands move to her waist, and she stiffened at once. "No, no. Relax. See, let it be natural. You are a _female_, somewhere in there you know what to do."

And she did. Whenever she let her guard down for Garrus, whenever she had a night with him, she seemed to know precisely what to do. She was never stiff or awkward. In fact she had the capacity to be as dominant as her personality demanded, but with a sensuality that always seemed to surprise Garrus in the best of ways. Sometimes she even relinquished that control. She was fluid and she was a woman and she curled around his form like she was made to fit it..

She felt the tension go out of her limbs as she began to relax and Tali gently reached down to smooth the impressive skirts out around her, the dress's neat train elegantly flowing behind, spilling over the edges of the raised pedastal in a splash of white satin and lace. "See, now? You look ready."

The person looking back at her didn't seem like the same woman. She hardly recognized herself. It was like waking up anew all over again, except this time she was incredibly pleased. Her hand curled reflexively and she realized it was because she felt naked without a sidearm. But at the same time she knew that this was the person she needed to be when she made that commitment.

As she looked in the mirror, with Tali'zorah to her right she watched as Jack moved to stand on her left, tugging a bit on her short jacket. "Yeah. It's.. it's good. You have a nice rack."

Tali and Shepard looked aside at Jack simultaneously and for a few moments a silence stretched between them.

"... What? Just thinking out loud here. It's a compliment."


	4. Those Moments I Cherished

**Disclaimer:** Once again, I own nothing of Mass Effect. Just pouring out my buckets of feels again.

**Author's Notes:** Once again I thank each and every one of you who has decided to follow this thing! I appreciate it every time I see a new follower. I can't promise that the updates will continue to come as often as they have been, seeing as this thing is developing some actual _plot _beyond my original plans for it, but I will continue working on it diligently as I can since I'm excited about getting to all the good parts as well. :3 This chapter is not quite filler-y but more of what I hope to be some idea of what _my_ Shepard is like, since they're all unique! We touch on some choice topics here. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did to write!

A warning of some slight artistic liberty taken in the form of name choice somewhere in here, but I am forced to make due where BioWare has left questions. XD

* * *

The next several weeks had been a flurry of activity. Work hadn't ceased to exist just because the war had been won. Shepard was still a Commander, after all. There was paper work yet to be filed, debriefings to cover, awards ceremonies to attend. It was all rather exhausting. Thankfully, the _Normandy_ was still home, though she was currently docked with the Citadel.

Shepard set a finely carved wooden case down on the desk in her quarters, just beside her terminal. It contained her latest commendation, presented to her by Admiral Hackett himself. The entire thing was more for the press than anything else. Shepard was no stranger to this sort of treatment; it had happened right after the business with _Sovereign_ as well. People loved a _hero_. People enjoyed having a face they could trust, a physical individual onto which to pin their hopes. That was fine then. She could live with being the poster child for humanity's potential. She'd heard that Alliance recruitment numbers had soared immediately following that. Everyone wanted to be like _her_. Ultimately she didn't care as long as she had a job to do. Her reputation always came second to her work; she left things like PR and politicking to others. She missed Udina for that and that reason alone. Watching the little man squirm in the midst of "political shit storms" as he put them were only too amusing not to watch. She had on at least a few occasions done something _just to piss him off_. The ultimate payback.

Well. Short of putting a bullet in him.

Shepard had heard that when she'd been presumed dead that her likeness had disappeared just about everywhere. She was replaced by some generic model of an ideal soldier. It eventually was leaked that Shepard was dead, but that was the thing about heroes. They aren't supposed to die. What point would there be then in ever hoping for one if they were just as vulnerable to the scary things lurking in the darkness as anyone else?

She looked over at her extensive collection of model crafts, eyes roaming over each in turn before finally coming to rest on the miniature replica of the _Normandy SR-1_. The detail was impeccable, every angle and curve exactly as it had been on the real thing. She'd loved that ship. She loved the _SR-2_, but there were memories locked within the twisted remains of that ship that couldn't be carried over. Many were dark, but in this time of peace she was keen on recalling only the brightest.

The Commander couldn't help but smile as she thought about it, sinking down into the soft leather desk chair. She remembered back when she'd first met Garrus; that young, impulsive C-Sec officer. He was eager and as she observed him then she couldn't help but see his latent potential. But he was trapped. In this case, bound by the regulations his position demanded. They'd hit it off at once. He never questioned her judgment. She gave him free reign because she never felt the need to reel him in and knew that if the time came where he did step over a line, she'd have no issue pulling him back where she needed him. At the time she never thought it odd unless someone pointed it out. Back then, that someone had often been Chief Williams, and the first time she'd brought it up it struck a chord with her. There was _some_ truth in it. She never had that same rapport with Tali or Wrex. She never actively mulled over the fact that a part of her missed him when he'd left after the mission was done; never could quite understand why the cargo bay felt a little less warm. She'd thought it was because going down there was a reminder of all that she'd lost. It was true, but Shepard hadn't realized how far that loss had reached.

As she leaned an elbow on the arm rest and tilted her head, she let her eyes roam further. The model of the current _Normandy_, again created with incredible accuracy was one row down, dwarfing the original in its replica just as in life. It was amazing how the craft had transformed in her mind. It began as little more than a tool handed to her by Cerberus; a means to an end. Now it held her fondest memories.

She'd never forget the day that pile of dossiers passed over her desk. She'd been sitting in this very spot, reading through them one by one. She had her doubts about _anyone_ they'd pick up on Omega for all the scum the place was rumoured to house, but the reports looked promising and the station was a three-for-one deal. One trip and she could knock three names off the list. That and the vanishing colonies made a woman desperate.

Shepard never expected the face she saw under that helmet. The alien and yet oh-so-familiar smirk, the little twitch of a mandible that was uniquely _Garrus_. She couldn't keep the thrill out of her voice, even if it did earn her some unusual looks from the pair of Cerberus agents she begrudgingly had allowed to stand at her back. She didn't care.

And then she'd almost lost him. That was the first time she'd nearly shed tears for the turian. Her control almost slipped. The way his eyes looked up at her; pleading, fearful, and yet determined. The way he weakly reached for his weapon. Even on the brink he was a fighter.

He _had_ to survive, she remembered saying to herself. She didn't know why, but it meant so much.

And he had. He'd come back from it faster than anyone had anticipated. And with all his sense of humour and good nature intact. Even with the pain he'd hidden behind that gaze. The pain he eventually confided in her about.

Shepard never regretted letting him take that shot. She'd have done it herself if he'd hesitated at all. She didn't care what else Lantar Sidonis had done; all she knew was that he had betrayed his friend and leader. Sent his comrades to their deaths. Almost stolen Garrus from her in his selfishness, when all he'd wanted to do was help people. Seek justice for those who had no one to fight for them. She didn't care about what he had to say, if he apologized or if he wanted to beg for his life. All she saw was red hot fury on Garrus' behalf. Stepping aside had been only too easy.

And then that last night..

She recalled standing behind Joker, and the way the air felt heavy. The ship had an eerie stillness. A glance toward the CIC reminded her that Chambers wasn't at her post. That most of the crew was gone. She knew she should have said more to the helmsman, but couldn't find the words. She could only order him to input the coordinates, to set a course for what might very well be certain death for him and everyone else. Joker didn't even blink.

"I'll let you know when we're on our final approach, Commander," he'd said quietly, looking up to her and she'd nodded with the slightest of reassuring smiles.

"We'll get them back. We'll finish this and then we'll all take a nice, well-deserved shore leave."

She watched his hands move over the console with their usual smooth, fluid efficiency.

"I know," he said with absolute confidence. "But you're buying the drinks. Least you can do for my dedication. This is the second suicide mission I've flown you into. Since my medals got lost in the mail somehow, I guess it'll do."

She chuckled, turning to leave. "Anything you want, Joker. Just keep this thing together."

"Could do it in my sleep, Commander."

Shepard patted the top of the seat lightly before moving off, intending to take a nice, long shower. The words she'd said to Garrus earlier had stuck out in her mind, and she couldn't help the light blush that crept to her cheeks. She couldn't even blame it on alcohol. It was just.. spur of the moment.

And then her bathroom door had slid open with a hydraulic hiss, and there he was. Dressed in what she assumed was the best casual clothing he currently owned, a bottle in his hand. He babbled a little, fidgeted, generally looked like he was going to die at any moment. But she'd ultimately comforted him, and for the first time their foreheads met in that intimate gesture that only afterward she'd learned the true meaning of.

They'd spent the night gently, and that made it all the more perfect. It wasn't the product of frustration and longing, but of genuine love and romance. He was so careful with her and her with him as they felt each other out; a mutual learning experience. It seemed so natural for how exceptionally foreign it was, no real amount of awkwardness between them even as she very blindly sought the places that gave him the most pleasure. And of course, Garrus was a quick learner in this as he was in all things.

They ended the night in each other's arms; warm, embraced in the security of one another. If Shepard could have held off the morning, kept the mission off just another day, she would have. It felt like Joker's voice carried over the intercom in her room too soon.

She'd kissed him one more time before untangling her limbs reluctantly from his. Assured him that she'd survive. That he'd survive. That she'd make sure _everyone_ made it home.

And she had.

And then it was all a blur. The batarians, the Reapers, the sudden realization that she alone could change the outcome of this war. She felt that every time she looked at Hackett through their transmissions. Felt it in her gut each time Anderson found an opportunity to check in from Earth. Her hope, her one solitary flicker of light in the darkness was that he was out there somewhere. That in the vastness of the galaxy she'd find him again, like she had before. He _will_ turn up, she'd told herself. Even after the reports came in about Palaven, she held on to that. Clung to it for dear life.

Because that is exactly how it was. _She felt she might die without it._

Menae.

Was it wrong to feel such elation in the midst of so much sorrow? To feel so much was _right_ even as his home lay burning above him? But she saw it in his eyes too. And she was glad, so glad she could be even the slightest solace in all this madness.

_Are you ready to be a one-turian kind of woman?_

Shepard looked down, felt the small weight of the ring on her finger and smiled.

"Commander, there's a message waiting for you in the debriefing room."

Traynor's voice jarred her out of her thoughts, and for a moment she was honestly confused. Who would be calling on her now?

She leaned forward, depressing the small button for the comm.

"Understood, Specialist. I'll be right down."

Shepard gave it a lot of thought as she waited for the elevator to descend to the main floor but as she stepped through the doorway she still had no idea who it might be. She tucked a loose strand of red hair behind her ear as she awaited the scanning mechanism to finish its job, once again mentally cursing the device. She saw its necessity when bringing potentially hostile aliens aboard, but that it required _her_ to be scanned time and again was just aggravating. She couldn't _quite_ keep the venomous look off her face as the private attending the machine gave her the all-clear, and she marched right on through the war room to the little circular room on the far end. Her expression had cleared by the time she'd reached the small console and activated the switch beside the small, gently blinking light.

"This is Commander Shepard," she stated in her usual controlled tone.

The transmission flickered a moment before clearing. Communications were occasionally spotty as the FTL comm buoys were replaced across the galaxy. But it was quite obvious she was speaking to a turian. He was neatly dressed, his posture straight and his arms tucked behind him. Her initial assumption was that he was a politician of some sort.

_Oh, here we go.._

Then she noticed his face. The familiar features, the angular markings. The plates were weathered and indicative of his advanced age, but the resemblance was unmistakable.

"A pleasure to finally have the opportunity to speak with you. I regret that I was not able to see you in person for this, but I know we will be meeting personally soon enough. Your accomplishments as a soldier and leader are known far and wide, but I would like to know more about you as an.." The turian hesitated, and she knew that he had carefully chosen his next word. ".. individual. A fair request, yes?"

"Of course, sir," Shepard's tone was clipped, but only because dread was sitting like a rock her stomach. Hands at her sides, her thumb worried the band of the ring on her finger idly.

"Wonderful. I will have all the pertinent information forwarded to your ship. I look forward to seeing you, Commander."

The turian made a motion which she knew to be the species' form of a salute before the transmission ended and she turned her back to the console.

Well this was _lovely_.

She was planning a wedding. Overseeing business as usual, as tedious and annoying as that often was.

And now had a meeting scheduled in the near future with one Celsus Vakarian.

Garrus' _father_.

Why couldn't anything ever just be easy?


End file.
